


The Narrow Door

by liz_fic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Rough Trade April 2018, Temporary Character Death, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_fic/pseuds/liz_fic
Summary: After retiring from Quidditch and a life on the road, Hermione offers Harry the project of his choice at the DoM. Prophecies are self-fulfilling twaddle, in Harry’s opinion, so that leaves Love, Time or Death. Fortunately for Hermione (and Sirius), Harry ends up with all three.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I write glacially slow. Seriously, look at my WIPs. They're not abandoned. I'm still working on them. ALL of them. I'll finish this, but not on a schedule. This starts after the second war with Voldemort. Some characters live, some die, and some don't stay dead. I'm not kind to Ginny, and probably won't be kind to Ron, Molly or Percy. The first two chapters and most of the third were originally posted to Rough Trade (April 2018) so this is unedited/unbetaed.

“Harry?”

Harry finished wiping down and wrapped the towel around his waist, before turning to the fire. “Hey, Gin. Saw a bit of the match, good job on the four goals.” He could see her smile through the flames. 

“Thanks. This came for you at the Burrow. Mum sent it along.” She tossed the package through.

Harry snatched it out of the air, causing Ginny to smirk, before sitting it on the table next to his dinner. 

“You sure you want to continue your break from the Cannons? Ron would love to have you back for another season.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Two seasons and a World Cup appearance were plenty. With the money he made, the Cannons can afford three players to replace me.”

“Oh, Harry, no one could replace you.” Ginny batted her lashes, which looked even more absurd through the flames. 

He knew she was joking, but it still made him uncomfortable. “How’s Draco?”

“Basking in my fame, wealth, and good name.” She smiled genuinely. “And a fantastic shag.”

“That part I already knew.” Harry laughed pulling on his clothes. “Tell him hello for me, and thank your Mum.”

“I will. Enjoy your time off, Harry. Let us know when you’re back in the area.” She disappeared from the flames.

He and Ginny never managed to get back together officially after the Second War. Instead, he had a brief fling with Malfoy, who was indeed a fantastic shag, and dated Neville who was just as sweet as you’d imagine (and also a fantastic shag). Ginny dated Neville briefly, but took up with Cho at an after-party when the Harpies won their division. Neville, as far as Harry knew, was still dating Hannah Abbott since they both worked at Hogwarts--Neville as the Professor of Herbology, while Hannah worked with Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital wing. 

He glanced at the Prophet. It was another article about how pretty Ginny and Malfoy looked together. Next to it was the picture of Harry from his resignation press conference after Skeeter accused him of wanting to live off his reputation. He’d come pretty close to hexing her mute, but refrained by gritting his teeth and pointing towards Luna for the next question. Harry, in the wizarding photo, looked both angry and kept trying to leave the frame. The caption below it, written by Skeeter, of course, read: HARRY POTTER, JILTED AND HEARTBROKEN. He wasn’t sure who Rita Skeeter thought he was pining over, Ginny or Draco. Nevermind that he hadn’t dated either of them in years, and was pining for neither. He supposed they sold more papers with the three of them on the front. 

Harry pushed the paper to the side, and sat at the table, picking at his dinner. The meat rolls were tasty, but he didn’t care for the sauce. He glanced at the package Ginny had given him. He declined all mail at his flat, preferring to go to an Owl Post center to mail things out, and Gringotts to pick up deliveries. Occasionally, people from the Order would send him things at the Burrow, but that didn’t happen more than twice a year. 

Since his retirement, he’d been camping near the Forest of Dean. With the protections he and Hermione had developed in the search for Horcruxes plus the additional spells he’d learned after, the tent was as warm and safe as the Gryffindor dorms. Well, now that he thought about it, probably safer. Chuckling, he flipped the package in his hands. The brown wrapping paper looked familiar, but he didn’t recall exactly where he’d seen it. Placing it back on the table, he drew his wand from its holster. It took him twenty minutes to cast every detection charm and discovery spell he could think of--the package was clean. 

He tried to open it, but the paper wouldn’t budge. He tried a cutting charm. That didn’t work. Next, he tried a muggle pocket-knife. It snapped at the handle. Picking up his wand again, he tried Alohamora and Bombarda. Nothing happened. He fingered the edges of the package. 

‘Berk. Open me properly’ was printed all over the front of it. He grinned, thinking maybe George and Ron had magicked up the wrapping paper like the Marauder’s Map.

“I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.” He tapped his wand against the front.

The writing changed to ‘That’s more like it’ and split apart to reveal a long narrow box. He wiped his hands on his jeans nervously. Sometimes George and Ron sent him the oddest things to test out. Their knockout nellies had sleep charmed the entire locker room for four days. The Cannons hadn’t missed their match (George and Ron weren’t heathens!) but they had slept until three hours before the match started. George claimed that being well-rested helped them beat Puddlemere United, so Ron couldn’t complain too much. Harry was just happy to see George pranking again. 

He took a deep breath and opened the box. The first thing he noticed was the dark red velvet, the exact shade of Gryffindor’s banner covering the bottom of the box. The Elder Wand was at the bottom of the box with the Resurrection stone sitting right at the tip. 

Harry blinked. 

Harry blinked some more. 

He’d snapped the wand. He had. He threw both pieces into the water. After. Snapping. The. Elder. Wand. Which was entirely whole and still nestled innocently on a Gryffindor-red crushed velvet cushion. He looked for any kind of message. There wasn’t one. The only clue he had was the insulting wrapping paper. He closed the box, replaced the paper loosely over the top, and whispered “Mischief Managed” before tapping his wand lightly on the paper. The package rewrapped itself tightly and dropped back onto the table.

Harry stood, and then stumbled over to the fireplace tripping over a chair in his haste. He tossed in some floo powder and spoke very clearly.

“Department of Mysteries, Hermione Granger’s office.”

“I can’t possibly get away for another two days.” She stopped speaking towards the phone on her desk. “Oh, it’s you. What do you need, Harry?”

“I received a package today. Ginny threw it to me from the Burrow.” 

“She’s already back from the tournament?” Harry’s face was warm, but his vision wasn’t impaired much by the fire-call. He saw Hermione shake her head. “No, never mind. What about the package?”

“Is this call secure?”

“You’re literally the only person on the planet that can use it from the outside, Harry. I’d say it’s secure. Now what is it? I have four different cases open, and sixteen experiments going right now.”

“Someone sent me the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone.”

“Step back.” She flicked her wand behind her, throwing four silent spells around her office, before grabbing a handful of floo powder. “I’ll be right there.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you--”

“Yes.”

“What about--”

“Yes.”

“And--”

“Yes, Hermione.” Harry ran his hand through his hair. “I tried them all.”

Hermione sat down at the table. “So you didn’t get any kind of magical trace ?”

"No. I tried Revelio, half a dozen others, and even Reparifarge, but nothing happened. Honestly, the only trace I’m getting from the packaging is the same as the Hallows."

“You know it’s not partially transformed.” Hermione pulled out her wand and looked up at Harry. “Do you think Death is giving you a gift, like the Peverell brothers?" 

“I don't know why he would now.” Harry shook his head and held up the teapot. “I think he'd have stepped in with Voldemort if that was the case."

Hermione nodded, but before she could finish the fire became bright again with the outline of Ginny’s face.

"Harry?"

Harry winced, muttering about twice in one day, and filled the teapot with water. 

Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but transfigured a button into a plate. She pulled out parcel of biscuits from her bag.

"What is it Gin?” Harry asked once her face came all the way through.

"Mum wanted to know," she broke off abruptly when she spied Harry’s guest. "Oh, hello Hermione."

“Ginny.” Hermione said, keeping her voice neutral while plating the biscuits. 

"Right, sorry. I forgot to ask earlier,” Ginny continued, “Mum wanted to know if you were coming for dinner."

"Um, no. Not tonight. Maybe next week?"

"You can't hermit forever." Ginny laughed. "I'm sure Draco can put off his meeting with Neville about the Pierre House, if you’d like to see us." Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Harry hadn’t looked up while pouring the tea, so while he caught the tone, he dismissed it as Ginny’s usual flirting. Hermione caught it, however, and focused harder on arranging the biscuits. 

"I'll owl him later tonight or tomorrow." Harry handed Hermione a cup. “See you Gin."

Ginny’s mouth turned down slightly. “Ok, see you, Harry.” Ginny pulled her head back from the fire, and it dulled back down to embers.

"Does she do that often?" Hermione asked.

"Do what often?" Harry asked with a confused look on his face. “I think the biscuits are fine Hermione. You’ve arranged them four times already.”

Hermione ate a biscuit, and took a sip of her tea before responding to his question. The second comment she was pointedly ignoring, “Act as a go between for Mrs Weasley?” 

“When she's not on the road for the Harpies, yes."

“Is that why you haven't blocked her from the floo?”

“Well, no, she hasn't done anything odd beyond deliver messages for her mum."

“Invitation for a threesome isn't odd?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

Harry choked on his tea. “What? No, there wasn't an invitation there. She was talking about dinner with her mum.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and handed him a napkin. "Sure she was.” She pulled the package towards her. “Now, let’s try this--"

Four hours later, they were both hungry and frustrated at the lack of progress. 

"Right." Harry touched Hermione's shoulder. “We should take a break. Come on." 

Harry handed Hermione one of her light jackets, and they walked towards the creek and small pond. As they came to the banks, Harry noticed that it wasn’t frozen solid, but he certainly had no desire to strip off and jump in this time. A sword would not be waiting for him, and there weren't any more Horcruxes to destroy. A soft whuff came from the trees. Harry had his wand out but didn’t cast anything. Yet.

A large black dog came forward, it’s tail wagging slowly, as if it were happy to see them, but cautious of its reception. The dog paused, sniffing the ground a bit, then came forward until it was almost at touching distance. Hermione and Harry had both stilled. The dog was rather large, but his tongue lolled from his doggy grin. Padding carefully over to Hermione as she held out a hand for him to sniff. He obliged her, and then pushed his whole head into her hand. She laughed, and took his hint, petting him and scritching behind his ears. 

Harry put his wand away, stepping closer to Hermione which caused the dog to become even more lively. His tail wagged madly, and he jumped a little to slobber on Harry’s face.

“Oh, Merlin, Padfoot. Down.” Harry stopped and took a deep breath, Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed, and even the dog looked nonplussed. But his tail kept wagging, and Harry could almost read a small smile on the dog’s face.

“Harry.” She turned to him, wrapping her arm around his waist.

He pulled her closer. “I know, Hermione. It just slipped out.” 

“He does look an awful lot like Padfoot, but he's a dog not a Grim. They’re larger and the air crackles around them. And there aren’t any children to save around here.”

The dog whuffed. 

“True." Harry looked wistful for a moment. "Let's see if he's got a tag." 

“If he’s a muggle pet, he'll have a tag or microchip.” Hermione knelt down in front of the dog. “You want to check for that while I check for magical tags?”

Harry pulled out his wand, waving it over the length of the dog. “No microchip, and he doesn’t have a muggle collar.” 

Hermione had checked for a magical collar, but waited until Harry stepped back before checking for magical tags. “There isn’t a magical tag, but there’s a scrap of… Hang on.” She trailed off, and then did something complicated with her wand. Pulling out an iridescent shimmering strand, “Is this the same signature as the Hallows?”

Harry kept petting the dog. He didn’t really want to answer her. The dog had other ideas though. He shoved his head into Harry’s chest hard, toppling Harry into Hermione. After they both fell, the dog tugged Harry closer to Hermione and then he sat on them both. They cracked up at the dog’s antics, tussling with him for a few minutes before standing and righting themselves. 

“We should take him back with us.”

Harry smiled at Hermione’s suggestion. “Allright.” He kept petting the dog’s soft ears. “Do you want to have dinner?”

Hermione’s cheeks pinked. “Sure. Do you want to order in?”

“We could order from Bergiano’s? They would send over a couple of roast chickens if we asked.” He tilted his head at the dog leaning into his side.

Hermione looked thoughtful. “He is very well-behaved and clean. And he didn’t push either of us into the water.”

The dog barked once in agreement. 

Harry looked behind him. The water was definitely closer than he’d thought. If the dog had nudged him straight back, he’d have been drenched. 

“No, he didn't, and he didn't shove you into the water either.” Harry ran his fingers through the dog’s fur. “It was right there. He could have gotten us both easily enough.” The dog stepped forward, shook himself, and padded towards the path back to their camp.

“Well," Harry smiled. “He looks ready for dinner.” 

The walked back to the campsite in higher spirits. There was something to be said about playing with a friendly dog.

Before they stepped through the warding spell, she looked directly at the dog and asked, "you want to tell me why you have the same magical feel as the Hallows? Because you're not a grim.” 

The dog paused as he was about to step into the campsite, his ears and head jerking around at a sound they couldn’t hear. He dropped his head and whined. He shoved his face into Hermione’s side, then Harry’s chest, nuzzling into them both. He stepped back, whuffed once, and ran back into the woods.

"So, you get the Hallows and a dog on the same day?” She stepped through to the tent. “What *have* you been doing Harry Potter?"

“Nothing. Nothing, Hermione, I swear.” Harry held up his hands in surrender. “I've been in this tent trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life because as much as it pains me to say it, Quidditch isn't enough. "

“No bargains with magical creatures? Or strange wizards?” She pulled a menu from Bergiano’s from her bag and handed it over.

“No. Nothing like that. Just me, and the forty-seven firecalls from the Burrow.”

“Forty-seven? Harry, you’ve only been retired for a month and a half!”

“Well, some of them were from George and Ron.”

Hermione just looked at him.

“Okay, twelve of them were from George and Ron.” Harry pointed towards the roast. “And Mrs. Weasley kept sending food.”

Hermione nodded, tapping the order now charm with her wand and then tapped their selections. Pulling the right amount of galleons from her bag, she waved off Harry’s protest, and dropped the coins into the hole that had appeared once she tapped that their order was complete. “You can get the tip.” 

The little menu and price lists were ingenious, and a service that Ron and George provided to all the eateries and shops surrounding theirs on Diagon Alley and in Hogsmeade. The delivery still had to be made by apparition or floo depending on the wards set up. The ones they had now would only allow the order and galleons to go to the restaurant, but wouldn’t allow anyone but them in. But with an exact arrival time, they could move the menu to a safer place for delivery before apparating back to the camp. It was very efficient, and one she used at her office plenty of times. 

In fact, it was so popular, they had set up a separate lounge before the lobby to the Department of Mysteries for receiving takeaway in this manner. Not that anyone knew it was the entrance to the department. Hermione had the department renamed to the Holmes Muggle Library when the elevator stopped on their floor. The takeaway area had a desk with a set of shelves filled with Muggle books behind it. On the desk was a folder filled with menus and price lists from all the shops that had an agreement with Ron and George.

Harry went to a nearby eating area, placed the menu flat on the table, and tapped the ready for delivery charm. A few minutes later a young wizard, probably just out of Hogwarts apparated within a few meters of the menu. Harry took the bags and handed over a couple of galleons to the young man. He nodded and apparated away before the wizard could gather himself enough to speak.

Returning, he passed over Hermione’s grilled chicken and set his own Italian roast on his side of the table. They ate for a few minutes before Hermione pinned him with a stare.

“So, what do you want to do?” She smirked and added slyly, “now that you’ve won a World Cup and have been on Witch Weekly’s top eligible athlete for the last four years running.”

Harry laughed. “I’m not sure.”

“With your qualifications you could do anything you want.” Hermione toyed with her potatoes. “You know, there are plenty of opportunities in my department.”

Harry took a sip of his drink. “Love, Time, or Death?”

“Or Prophecies.” Hermione smirked.

“That’s self-fulfilling twaddle and you know it.” Harry scoffed. 

“There are certain prophecies that come true.” Hermione placed her silverware primly on the plate but her eyes were sparkling.

“Which lends itself to the ‘self-fulfilling’ bit, there ‘Mi.” 

He loved that look on her face. He really couldn’t believe Ron had gone back to Lavender. Well, he understood it logically. They wanted different things out of life. Hermione loved her work and stayed away from their flat as much as Ron did with the Cannons. The problem was, that Ron wanted someone at home more than he wanted a wife that worked as much as he did. Their breakup was somewhat amicable. Although, Harry thought that might be more due to them wanting to spare him from choosing a side more than anything else. Harry was sure that Victor Krum would have stepped in by now, but Hermione hadn’t said anything.

“Well, the obvious choice is Death.” Harry rubbed his face tiredly.

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. “You don’t *have* to be obvious Harry. Think on it, and let me know.” Hermione accioed her things into her bag and gave Harry a crushing hug. "I'll be back after work tomorrow, but you don't have to decide by then." She stepped just outside the edge of the wards and turned back to Harry, "You know, we could always start you out with Time,” and then she apparated away.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry smiled, thinking Love might be a bit more apt, though he had to admit that he had more luck with Death than anything else. Not that he thought it was a good thing, but he was definitely more experienced with it, not counting Cho, he’d dated three people seriously, and none of them would have worked long term.

He spent the first few years after the Battle of Hogwarts rebuilding the Burrow, the castle, and what was left of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. He occasionally helped Ron’s older brother Bill in Gringotts, but between robbing Bellatrix’s vault, setting the dragon free, and the deal over Gryffindor’s Sword, there was quite a bit of distrust on both sides. Harry didn’t believe his life would be worth much if another disagreement arose, but his and Sirius’s vaults were still intact. He’d also been given a list of assets that he’d inherited from Sirius, so they were back to business at least, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to trust the Goblins entirely. Bill had warned him, and he knew they could hold grudges. But he still couldn’t bring himself take all the blame. The Sword of Gryffindor would have shortened the war considerably, but they’d still taken it. Of course, the enchantments Godric had added meant that the sword showed up at Hogwarts when it was needed, but it would have been helpful sooner.

Then Quidditch season had finally started up again, and though he received offers from Puddlemere United, Montrose Magpies (thank you Professor McGonagall) and the Tutshill Tornados (absolutely not). He didn’t choose Puddlemere United because he’d never stopped harboring a bit of a crush on Oliver Wood, and would have probably flown his broom into the stands more often than not in practice. He ended up choosing the Chudley Cannons, who had also offered, because Ron was apprenticing there hoping to be brought on full time. Harry knew he’d helped Ron’s chances, but after everything, Harry had been looking for more of a reason to spend time with his best mate anyway. Ron was horrifically lazy and unmannered when it came to practically everything except Quidditch. Managing plays and players came as natural to him as Wizarding Chess though. Ron’s chosen career was an easy fit, and allowed him to rise in the ranks to Assistant Manager. 

Since his career started, he’d been on the road with the Cannons constantly, with only a couple of years off to play for England. Between games and practice, the events and interviews on the publicity tour for the World Cup, and meeting with fans, he barely had time to see any of his friends besides Ron. Neville had lasted the longest; he followed Harry on the road and harvested the local flora for potions ingredients at each stop. After crisscrossing the country a few times, even Neville grew tired of living out of trunks, wanting something more stationary. He and Harry broke up, also amicably, after the World Cup. A few months after that, at the beginning of Harry’s fifth season with the Cannons, Ron and Hermione split. Harry had to slice up his time between them, and he felt like he never got to see enough of Hermione. Ron started dating Lavender again. She was still lovely, but often wore scarves to cover up the damage that couldn’t be healed from Greyback’s attack. 

After this last tournament, he just couldn't take it. He didn't quite melt down in front of Rita Skeeter, but he'd had to obliviate her, taking her notes and quill. And all because she’d asked where his friends were, and how it felt to be utterly alone when both Ginny and Draco were so happy together. Once he'd calmed down, he felt horrible and requested the time off. Harry knew he was not going to renew his contract with the Cannons for the next season. Ginny knew he was retired, but he hadn't told Ron yet, who always spent the off season helping George with the shop. And now that Ron was dating Lavender again, he'd seen his best friend even less.

He had, however, seen Ginny more, but that wasn't something he entirely enjoyed. He hadn't lied to Hermione though, once Mrs. Weasley knew he was camping in the old tent, she sent food practically daily. Which was fine, really. Her cooking was much better than his. But the visits with Ginny that often, he could really do without those. She was still great, but something just seemed off with her since he dated Neville. He wasn’t quite sure what set her off, but the brief fling with Draco right before dating Neville had thrown her off somehow. Like he hadn't lived up to her standards. He knew she wasn't homophobic, because she’d never once said anything about Dean and Seamus finally getting together at school. And she'd dated both of them before she dated Harry. No, it was something else.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by barking. He hoped it was the black dog again. He pulled on a dressing gown over his pajama pants and went to the tent flap. Just outside the circle was a small dog, with a fox-like face, a straight heavy coat, and no tail. It came up to right about his knees, but it was barking like it had something to say. Harry went to the edge of the ward and crouched, touching the dog on its head to allow the wards to recognize him. The dog leapt through, pouncing on Harry and licking him all over the face. Harry laughed and pulled the dog back down to the ground. He stroked the wriggling dog, trying to calm it a bit. Harry was happy to see it, but wondered about the other one. The first dog was larger and was closer to a Black Lab. This little guy looked to be more alert, but obviously just as friendly.

Harry accioed a pillow from his bed. The ground was pretty smooth and covered in a soft layer because he liked to stretch out in the clearing to watch clouds during the day and the stars at night sometimes. He kept the tent because of the rain, but if he'd truly wanted to, he could probably come up with a clear barrier to keep the rain out. It just felt more nostalgic to camp in the Forest of Dean this way. And he’d rather not use any weather repelling charm that could be detected. He wanted to stay hidden for a while longer. The latest Daily Prophet hadn't mentioned that he was off the grid, so to speak, but it was only a matter of time.

The dog snuggled up to his side, laying its head on Harry's belly and gazed at him. Harry wondered who owned this dog as well. It was entirely too well mannered, pouncing and licking his face notwithstanding, to be wild. Harry rubbed its head, smiling as the dog leaned into his hand. "So, should I take Hermione up on her offer? Go to the Department of Mysteries and learn about Love, Time or Death?" Harry almost thought that the dog nodded, but shook that thought off as foolish, and leaned back into his pillow. The stars really were beautiful and he fell asleep petting the dog.

Harry saw the Hall of Death in his dreams, the Veil shimmering in front of him. He pushed a hand through but the veil wrapped around his hand, trapping it. He knew he needed a wedge to keep it open so he could go through without dying, but what? What would wedge a veil? What if he sliced it open? It couldn't wrap around him that way, but how would he get back? Hmm. Would he be killed instantly, like Sirius? Or would it be just a doorway?

Harry shot up quickly, dislodging the sleeping dog which snapped its jaws at Harry, annoyed, but careful not to bite. Harry wondered what woke him. He pulled his wand out of a pocket and glanced around, startling when a sugar cube bounced off his ear. He glanced behind him seeing Hermione sitting at his table with an open book beside her plate. How the reflexes waned when you didn’t use them for years.

"Hello, Harry. I didn't want to wake you and your new friend." She raised an eyebrow, closing the book. "Another dog?"

Harry looked a bit sheepish and ran his hand through his bedhead hair trying to pat it down knowing it was going to be ridiculous until he could get it charmed correctly. “He showed up after you left last night.”

Said dog was now in front of Hermione, staring longingly at the bacon on her plate. Harry rose from the ground, straightening his robe before preparing himself a cup of coffee from the pot she'd thoughtfully brought. Hermione pushed a plate of toast and jam his way, dropping a couple of strips of bacon while Harry was distracted.

"Good morning, Hermione." He said after taking a large sip. And what did it say about how he hadn't even woken from her crossing the wards and fixing breakfast. "I, well, like I said, he was at the wards last night when you left."

"Did you even think to check him for anything before you let him through?"

Harry blushed. "No, but the wards have intention on them, so even if I'd have tried to let him through it wouldn't have worked unless his intentions were benign."

Hermione nodded, as if that answered something. She absently ran a hand over the dog’s ears when it laid its head on her knee. “So you haven’t had Ginny or Ron visit?”

“No, just the fire-calls. Although, Molly came through when I first set things up to see what my kitchen was like. Her tea always spills though, so there’s something off with that. Maybe George jinxed the cups.”

Hermione frowned slightly before sipping her own coffee, but didn’t comment any further about the Weasleys. “Right, well, I came earlier so that we could take that,” she pointed to the wrapped box, “to my lab and run a few tests. I checked my experiments before I went home last night. Finished two of them, put the other fourteen into stasis, and wrapped up my part in the four cases for the DMLE this morning. I’ve completely cleared my schedule until we figure this out.”

“You’ve been abusing the time-turner again, luv?” Harry grasped her hand. “Did you get any sleep?”

“All the time turners were destroyed in our fifth year, Harry, you know that.” She yawned.

“And I’m sure you haven’t come across the notes on how to create them in someone’s old office, or any of the archives.” He pulled her from the table and back into the room with the bunk beds.

“I’ll just take a nap. Then we’ll go.” 

Harry pulled a fresh pillow from the top bunk and gave it to her. She was asleep quickly and he placed a light blanket over her.

Harry went back over to the table to clear their dishes, and thought he might go for a walk with the dog. The dog had vanished, however, and Harry couldn’t find a trace of it outside the wards. It seemed too odd, so Harry decided to sit at the table and flip through the book Hermione had brought. It was a book by a French wizard, with an extremely long title that Harry couldn’t read beyond knowing it was French. Harry cracked it open anyway, looking at the pictures. He didn’t think Hermione would sleep long even though she was exhausted. She couldn’t sleep for long during the day when they were here the first time, he couldn’t imagine that had changed. 

After an hour or so, he became impatient. Leaving Hermione a note, he decided to walk to the lake anyway. It was warm but cooling off. In another month the leaves would be changing. He made it to the lake and smiled. The big rock they all could fit on was still there. He gathered several flat stones and clambered up to sit. He hadn’t seen any grindylows or merpeople, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find a few fae. These woods were very old. He listened to the stream flowing into the lake, the breeze blowing his hair gently. He truly loved this place. It was the last place he’d really felt at peace even though it had been icy cold during the middle of a war the last time he’d been there. He skipped a few rocks across the water; then stopped as he watched a non-magical herd of deer drink. He skipped another stone before he heard Hermione calling him.

“Harry.” She climbed up the rock and he handed her a few stones. “I never really did get the hang of this.”

Harry nodded to her. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head. He climbed behind her so he could help her position her arm and wrist, moving both gently back and forth mimicking the motions she should make. She tried one that skipped twice before it fell, then another which went a bit further. She smiled at Harry. He kissed her on the cheek and moved back to his own pile of stones. Harry was truly surprised that Hermione didn’t feel the need to throw herself into research already, but maybe she had missed spending time with him as much as he had with her.

“We should get back.” She pulled at a thread from her jacket. “I placed warning beacons along the path.”

Of course she did, Harry thought.

“But there’s a crossroads and two fairy circles before we get to the campsite.” She continued, jumping down from the rock and wiping at her clothes to get rid of any dirt or leaves. Harry jumped beside her not worried about the dirt. She huffed, and brushed the dirt off him. Harry laughed and entwined his right hand into her left. They could both cast wandless, but she doubtless knew more wand spells so he left her wand-hand free.

The passed the two fairy circles that Hermione pointed out, and came upon a large black dog caught in a trap. He whined at them pleadingly. Harry loosened his grip on Hermione and drew his wand. He held it downward as he inched closer. The dog was massive. More massive than either of his previous visitors and electrical sparks were lighting around him in a thin aura as he whined.

“Oh, Harry, that’s an actual Grim!” Hermione had her own wand ready. “Be careful. Animals can be vicious when caught in a trap.” 

Harry refused to think about them both seeing a Grim at the same time. Harbinger of Death, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, and he would do everything in his power to see Hermione safe. The grim was calm as he approached, it’s tail wagging slowly as it didn’t want to move too much.

“Oh, Harry, who would put a trap at the crossroads?”

“It’s not iron, but I doubt it was the fae. It looks like a simple—“

“Stop!” Hermione shouted causing the grim to flinch. “It’s a magical foot-hold. Awful foul things! Use Emancipare, but gently. You don’t want to hurt him.” She knelt on the ground behind his head, and ran her fingers through his fur, careful to stay away from his teeth. The grim turned his head and licked her fingers anyway before leaning his head back into her lap. She resumed petting him. “Okay, Harry? He’s pretty calm now.”

“Emancipare!” The trap opened. It didn’t have teeth, but Harry felt along the grim’s leg anyway. “I don’t feel any breaks.”

“The fact that he’s a grim probably made a difference. His magical nature would’ve overwhelmed some of the low-level magic in the trap, so it probably didn’t close quite as quickly or violently.” Hermione rubbed the grim’s ears. “I’m surprised he didn’t step into the spirit world to get out.”

The grim whined pitifully recapturing their attention, and Harry helped him to stand. He leaned hard into Harry, his head reaching Harry’s chest easily. Hermione shrunk the trap and stuck it into her pocket. Harry nodded at her, knowing they both wanted to know who set the trap here, in this place. They walked slowly back to the camp, so as to keep pace with the limping grim. He seemed to enjoying walking between them the most with their hands on his fur.

It was barely lunchtime, but Harry wanted another cup of coffee. Maybe Hermione would be okay with biscuits for an early lunch. “Elevensies, Hermione?”

She laughed looking at Harry, neither of them noticing the grim limping through the wards unhindered. “Of course, you put the tea on,” she paused looking at his face more thoughtfully before continuing, “no, you want more coffee. I’ll fix it. Biscuits from Honeydukes alright, or did Mrs. Weasely send those over too?”

They both crossed the clearing watching the grim limp towards the tent. Harry chalked the wards allowing the grim through because it was an animal that didn’t mean them any harm. They stopped abruptly at the man sitting at the table, coffee in his hand and an overflowing plate of biscuits before him. The grim whined.

“If you allowed my Grim through, surely you didn’t think I couldn’t follow.” He pointed to the Grim. “And you, stop limping. You’re fine and you know it, brat.”

The grim whuffed, but wandered over, his gait smooth and unhindered, to put his head on the man’s knee. He rubbed the grim’s head, then waved them over to chairs surrounding the table. “Sit. Sit. We have a few moments.”

Harry poured them both coffee while Hermione plated a few biscuits for them. They settled around the table. 

“Death, I presume?” Hermione broke the silence. 

Harry munched on a biscuit. They were still warm. 

“Of course.” Death took a sip of his coffee. “Grims are mine, and mine alone, to call.” 

“The trap at the crossroads?” Harry asked.

“A feeble ploy.” The grim padded over to Harry and nuzzled his hair.

“And the other visits?” Hermione took a sip of her coffee.

Leaning close to Harry, the grim sat, placing his shaggy head onto Harry’s knee. Harry could feel the tension in the Grim’s neck. Harry rubbed his head and ears. “It’s okay, Padfoot.”

Death smiled. 

Hermione cleared her throat, placing her cup back onto the table. “So, Sirius has been working for you?”

“He fell into my domain, so I made him a deal. He works for me, and he gets to return to the mortal world in grim form. If you realized that he wasn’t exactly dead, I’d give him the opportunity to live, to return to his life.”

“You mean what was left of it.” Harry frowned. “He’s been gone for ten years.”

“I can send him right back to the place and time he entered my realm.” Death removed his gloves, absently fiddling with the smooth metal grommets on the back.

“What’s in it for you? What do you get by giving him up?”

“I want Voldemort. I want him earlier than you managed before. I want the Horcruxes gone, and any mention of them erased from time immemorial.” His hands clenched around his gloves tightly before he calmed, placing them flat on the table. He pressed his hands along the leather, from the palm to the tips of the fingers, smoothing them out, before speaking calmly, “I will not be cheated.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Harry asked. He absolutely did not want another bout with destiny.

Death sighed, and took another biscuit. “It is not my place. My purview is death. I do not interfere with the living.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “The Hallows?”

“A gift.” At their skeptical looks, Death continued. “A gift for those already marked. They were dead, they just did not know it yet.”

“Not to be obvious, but aren’t we all marked?”

Death remained silent, giving Harry a mild look.

“Alright, so why now? Why not earlier?” Harry pushed his saucer away, taking the last sip of his excellent coffee.

“Maybe I wanted to save you from that unfortunate haircut you had your first season with the Cannons.”

“That was years ago.”

“And yet the photographic evidence remains.” Death began toying with a familiar diamond shaped stone. “If you want Sirius you have to come get him.” And Death vanished with Sirius, the Resurrection stone spinning like a top upon the table.


End file.
